Nocturnal Outing
by TaisaJai
Summary: When Major Miles can't sleep, he finds his entertainment interrupted by a certain blonde.
1. Chapter 1

Major Miles was laid on his back, staring at the dark ceiling of his quarters with a look of tired irritation. He had been laid in his bunk for the past hour or more, and no matter how relaxed he became or how much he tried to force himself, sleep just would not come.

A quiet sigh escaped his lips before he sat up from the bunk, no longer willing to just lay in the darkness with his all too familiar thoughts.  
A deft flick saw the thin cotton sheet slung from his body while he swivelled to place his bare feet on the chilly steel floor. The Ishvalan had forgone the comfort of a carpeted room as he saw it as a pointless luxury. It was bracing to wake up with the cold he lived in.

Standing, the man quickly changed into his military uniform; donning his shirt, the thick canvas trousers and thicker still jacket, though he declined the need to wear his coat and other effects. He was only going for a walk.  
Strolling out from his quarters, Miles took a number of steps before he was rushing back into his room to grab his forgotten boots, laughing quietly at himself as he dressed to set off again.

Another yawn graced the Major, but he didn't stop walking. There was no point. As tired as he felt, he would enter his quarters and the need to sleep would be gone faster than Buccaneer after a new arm.

That idea made him chuckle mildly, hands sliding into his pockets as he paused in the main corridor, looking at the men that passed and nodding respectfully to any he made eye contact with. Well, goggle contact. The Major, regardless of being among men that he trusted and valued, still wore the glasses that hid his scarlet eyes; a mixture of habit and also that daunting sense of fear he always felt when any of the Briggs men held his gaze.

There was too much bad blood between Amestris and Ishval for him to ever feel safe, although a certain blonde General had demanded he gave up his stupid naive ideas. Another chuckle.  
Of course he felt safe here, it was stupid of him to think otherwise.

Miles veered down a side corridor, his new destination in mind and a slight smirk playing over his lips.  
What were the odds that the training hall would be full?

__

* * *

The Major was in luck. The training hall was empty. He smirked, smug about the arrangement. The soldiers that had the middle of the night free all managed to sleep unlike their Major. Everyone else was working.

The man spared a glance at the equipment that was against one edge of the dominating hall, pulling his jacket off as he debated what to use first. The man strode to the wall nearest the door, neatly folding his jacket to rest it on the floor and doing the same with his shirt. Miles smiled, removing the tinted glasses that covered his scarlet eyes before he turned to stride into the middle of the wrestling ring.

The idea behind the ring had come from Buccaneer, an appropriate way to teach soldiers how to spar against real opponents. Of course, he just wanted it to be able to spar Miles as he often did, but Olivier had bought into it and arranged for it to be painted.

He scorned the use of the equipment, choosing to lie down on the floor with a small shiver at the sudden shift from warm body to cold floor. He gave a faint grimace, before he crossed his arms over his chest and began an easy rhythm of sit ups.  
The Major lost himself in the exertion, starting slowly with blocks of ten before picking up the pace, grunting a little with each sit up.

It was like this that Olivier Armstrong chanced upon the man. At first she had frowned while watching him, readying herself to snap at him for being silly. Yet, when her presence went unnoticed, she soon lost the desire and became more interested in just watching him. A faint grin crossed her features as he suddenly sat upright and exhaled sharply, bent legs straightening and torso heaving.

His scarlet eyes were closed, and he rubbed his stomach slowly, laying himself back down to sprawl on the floor with a gentle sigh of relief. The dark skin of the Ishvalan was slick with a thin film of sweat, and his whole upper torso heaved.

"You should be asleep, Miles." Her voice cut through his reprieve, making the Major jump and open his eyes sharply looking almost behind him to see the General watching him.

"General Armstrong!" The man scrambled upright, saluting formally to his commander. "What brings you here, sir?" Although still out of breath, the man was as composed as ever which made her smile fleetingly, giving a lazy wave to stand him at ease while she crossed from the door to stand within the ring facing her Major.

"This is my fortress, Miles. If I wish to roam, I shall." Just as evasive as ever.  
Olivier declined the need to tell her Major that she too was struggling to sleep. Drachma was being suspicious, and it was playing on her mind.  
"Why are you here?" Her smile faded to be replaced by her usual frown, giving away nothing.

"I cannot sleep." He replied nonchalantly, his gaze flicking to the side to his abandoned clothing. While unashamed to stand before anyone without a shirt, he felt it improper and disrespectful of him to face Olivier in such a way. She on the other hand, couldn't care less.

"So instead of relaxing in your quarters, you're in here exhausting yourself? I don't appreciate my men having lie ins when they've stayed up all night, Miles." Her tone was stern. "Not when they could be in bed resting."

Miles, true to form, smiled thinly. "I am not one to lay around idle while I could busy myself, nor am I not one to forget to wake up, either." His husky voice was almost apologetic. Almost.  
"Busy yourself, by working out?" Olivier smirked mildly, raising her sheathed sword up to prod him in the stomach somewhat harder than perhaps necessary.

"You don't need to work out, you do realise?" Her tone was teasing, her eyes lit by that cold amusement that went so often missed. Miles grinned ruefully at her, having been with the General too long to miss something as simple as that.

Another prod came from her sword, so with his open palm he batted the sword to the side, withholding the urge to shiver at the cold metal tracing over his dark skin.  
"True, but I have nothing else that can claim my attention, so this is a productive wa-" he stopped talking while Olivier had turned away from him suddenly to walk away from him. "Ah, sir?" Miles was confused.

Olivier on the other hand, stopped at the edge of the painted circle, regarding the man calmly. A quick shift, and her coat was shrugged off and dropped so carelessly to the floor. Miles followed the movements, unsure of what to make of this random removal of clothes. Her gloves followed the coat, and that was then when she struck.  
One minute she was dropped the gloves, the next she was running at Miles with her sword arcing up sharply; thankfully still sheathed.

Instinctively, Miles brought his forearms together in a cross, making an effective and hasty block against the vicious swipe for his head.  
"You just lost your forearm, fool." Olivier berated him while shifting her hands on the ornate hilt, swinging the sword out of his block to only twist it for another swipe at him; this time at his waist.

While still uncertain about the situation, the Briggs training took over and made the Ishvalan jump away. That produced a smirk from Olivier, but she didn't waste time in gloating.  
"What ar-" the words were no sooner out of his mouth when she had moved to strike again. Every moment she made was flawless, and her sword struck with deadly accuracy. Miles had no other option but to jump away from her.

"No questions are asked on the battlefield, Miles." Her tone was almost mocking, and that annoyed him.  
He regarded his foe with a critical eye, no longer confused about what to do. She'd said battle. That meant make sure she didn't hit anything vital. His eyes roamed up the sheathed sword. If she swung that as she usually did, it would still hurt. Nothing damaging, but pain was annoying.

Olivier made the first move again, exploding into a flurry of strikes which Miles either ducked and dodged, or took on his shoulders and upper arms. Every time the sword touched him, Olivier enjoyed announcing how, were it a real blade, she would have just cut him.

* * *

The pair continued that way for a while, before Miles grew tired of the constant berating. While she had a weapon however, there wasn't much he could do.  
Olivier on the other hand, was enjoying this. It wasn't often she could work out to this extent and it wasn't often her opponent didn't make a mistake. She could see where he was beginning to flag however. The odd sluggish dodge, an easy miss, missing exaggerated openings, it was all becoming obvious. That made her smirk, before she chose to stop her barrage, taking a step or two back to give him space. It pleased her to see his eyes narrow, as if expecting a trap.

"You are wasted as a tactician, Miles." Her tone was amused, eyes approving of the bare chested Ishvalan.

"I take my place in the field when I must..." He sounded almost defensive. Olivier simply laughed.

"I know, don't worry." She laid her sword on the floor, and strode to his front once more, smirking.  
The Major just stared, a hand chasing away the stray beads of sweat that rolled over his brow and threatened his to impair vision.

"Perhaps if the need arises I should place you in the field."  
Miles took the compliment well, smirking just a little at it.

"But then you would lack my tactical mind." He half teased, pointing out the obvious.  
Olivier jabbed him in the chest for it. Hard. The man grimaced, unpleased.

"You are easily replaceable... Perhaps Lieutenant Henshal..." She gave a vague grin.

As retaliation Miles, with unusual playfulness, slapped Olivier's wrist away and moved to rub the jabbed spot ruefully, until he received a sharp blow directly into his abdomen from the woman. The Ishvalan grunted, but wasted no time in latching his hands to grab her wrist and just below her elbow.

The General's eyebrow rose before she was suddenly yanked into Miles's body. He released her and quickly wrapped his arms around her upper body, his strong arms trapping her own. Their fronts were crushed together, though Miles had allowed some room to encompass his General's buxom chest.

Said General glanced at their predicament, and a brief tense against his arms told her that he was taking this seriously. It would take too much effort just to break his grip and then suitably punish him. She sighed almost briefly, before raising up on her toes to press her lips firmly against his.

As expected, Miles stiffened and his arms left hers almost instantaneously and he made an attempt to step away. However, Olivier's hands had slid onto his waist and her open eyes were uncharacteristically curious. The Major couldn't help but enjoy the soft chill of her lips against his own, the almost gentle touch of her hands on his waist and the sweet smell of her so tantalisingly close.  
He kissed her back; lips parting slightly and his body relaxing against her.

Olivier grinned a little against his mouth, and then stepped away from him. She didn't miss the confusion and disappointment in his gaze before he schooled himself to just look neutral.  
"Enough for tonight, I think." Her tone was amused, but it was beginning to revert back to its typically cool demeanour. Turning away from him, Olivier strode to her discarded belongings, pulling her coat on and sliding on her gloves while calmly regarding her Major.

"Get some sleep, Miles. You are to be up early in the morning." Fully dressed, she reclaimed her sword and began to stride from the training hall, grinning unseen by Miles.

The second in command saluted, snapping his reply of "Yes sir" with its typical enthusiasm, before he began to reclaim his own clothes.

Sadly, he couldn't stop his mind from flashing teasing images, and playing over her last words in his head.  
Enough for tonight... Perhaps... He glanced up at her back just as the door was swinging shut, obscuring her as she left.  
Perhaps... another night?

The Ishvalan Major laughed, sliding on his clothes and glasses with unabashed slowness. Perhaps it could be interesting, becoming a nocturnal being.


	2. Chapter 2

The wind was bitterly cold, cutting across the cheeks of the Major who didn't bat an eyelid at it and was grateful to the tinted goggles he wore that allowed him to see against the bitter wind. He stood on the top of the steel fortress of Briggs, staring at the frigid and barren landscape of the snowy mountainside, almost as if he was looking for a lone Drachma soldier to appear in the virgin white, just for something else to distract him.

At the thought, he released his loosely clasped hands. His right gently brushed over the butt of his pistol, holstered snugly against his hip as it always was, but didn't unfasten the clasps that held it there.

Another frozen bite of wind stole over his face, making him grimace unhappily.  
It was annoying when the only place he could escape even briefly was outside on the watch posts. He frowned. It made no sense why he was even attempting to 'escape'. He wasn't the one in a mood. He wasn't the one raging around Briggs. He wasn't the one who was terrifying even the Bears of Briggs.

That thought made him snort, and amused him briefly, though the amusement left as soon as the hard clatter of heavy military boots came across the toughened steel of his fortress.

Miles turned slowly, surveying the white clad soldier that hurried towards him. His exposed face was pink from both the chilling wind and the exertion of climbing the steep stairs. When he reached the Major, the soldier stopped and saluted sharply. The gesture was returned with a tired limb.

"What seems to be the problem?" His smooth voice was nearly torn away by the wind, but the soldier heard enough.

"You've been summoned by Major General Armstrong," the solider shouted a little. Miles groaned quietly; the noise thankfully hidden in a gust of icy wind.

"Understood, Private. Please, take my post and I will send some relief soon," the Ishvalan ordered, before he took off walking away from the man who snapped a second salute and happily took up the post of watch.

The Major headed for the heavy steel doors and made his way inside the slightly warmer halls of Briggs to make his way to the office of the Ice Queen.

* * *

The woman sat behind the desk with her elbows resting on the dark wood, hands clasped in front of her face and gently resting her mouth against them to regard the man before her.  
Miles on his part had his hands clasped loosely behind his back, his gaze resting on the wall above her head and his face calmly composed.

"Where were you?" Olivier's voice was as cold as the wind he had just escaped.  
Miles didn't answer immediately, choosing instead to frown just a little behind his goggles, thankful they hid his scarlet eyes. The Major General scowled, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Your superior officer just asked you a question, Major." Her voice was eerily calm and controlled; something that concerned the Major more than her yelling at him. Her temper was barely being kept in check at this rate.

"I was topside, General. I was on look out." He replied to the wall.  
"Why? I know your schedule. You weren't meant to be topside. You rarely are." Her hands fell onto the desk, her body leaning forward a little. "Why were you there?"  
Miles allowed his eyes to dip, surveying the woman almost secretly while his jaw tensed, unpleased.  
"I have no answer for that question."

Whatever it was Olivier had expected as an answer, the brief look of surprise showed that wasn't it. "Miles, explain yourself." She scowled at the man.

"General I cannot." He was obstinate, refusing her.  
Olivier scowled. "You are one word away from being kicked out to survive on the mountain until I forgive you." Her eyes narrowed dangerously, hand toying with the hilt of her ornamental sword that rested against her thigh.  
The Major didn't move, a small tense in his jaw being the only thing to break his stony appearance.

Olivier stood up slowly, calmly. Her hand wrapped around the neck of her sword's sheath, taking it with her as she moved to his front.  
"Pack your things. Get out of my fort. Do not attempt to come back." Her words were cold and harsh, eyes narrowed and lip curled in disgust. The Major however, made no move as she brushed past him.

"You will banish me for being outside?" His tone was incredulous.  
"I will banish you for treachery in my fortress." Her footsteps stopped, and the gentle swish of her hair told him she's turned around. He however, did not.  
"I am not a traitor. I am loyal to Briggs, as you know."

Olivier glanced down at his clenched fists, stepping to be half facing him with a scowl.  
"Do I know? You have a terrible way of showing it."  
The scrape of metal on metal told him she'd drawn her sword, and when he turned around he was greeted with the sight of the dangerous blade leveled at his chest directly over his heart.

"You have been noted as spending far too much time outside on the observation platform facing Drachma. That alone gives me reason to belief that you are searching for your next orders from some signal man." He made an attempt to interrupt, but her glare stopped him. "I now find you refusing orders from your commanding officer, and you are being incredibly difficult." The woman gave a humourless smirk. "Give me a reason not to run you through where you stand."  
Miles stood there and heard her out, now scowling at this open slander.

"I am no spy," was all he said which made Olivier laugh, but he paid no heed and continued, "My time spent topside is to avoid you, not to receive special orders. My reasons for defying you were to hide the fact I was avoiding you, however you now hold a sword against me, meaning I may longer do so." The matter of fact way he spoke, he could have been commenting on the weather.

Olivier's hand tightened on the hilt of her sword, lowering it almost warily.  
"And pray, tell me. What have I done to warrant this?"  
"You kissed me, sir."

The woman wanted to hit him. His eyes were hidden by those tinted goggles, and his voice was the same husky tone it always was. It was impossible to read him. Hell, it'd be easier for her to ask the brick wall what that meant. She frowned at him, sheathing her sword and holding the scabbard with a look of bored annoyance.

"And?" She cocked an eyebrow, her face as blank as a stone.  
"I thought it best to avoid you for the matter."  
Olivier laughed. She laughed openly and loudly, finding that simple statement ridiculous beyond belief.

"You are afraid that a simple kiss would endanger the working environment? Please, grant me credit. I'm not that cretin in Central, Mustang." She snorted over his name, pulling a face as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.

"No sir, I ju-" He began only to be cut across by the sharp tongued General.  
"You assumed, Major. Assumptions get you killed in Briggs." Her eyes narrowed, hand shifting to the hilt to hit him with her sheathed sword, hard. Unprepared for it, Miles jumped and then winced, rubbing his struck arm.

"You are an idiot. Get out of my office." The meeting was done with, and she swept past him to return to her desk, sword resting at her side and fingers claiming the pen to continue with the forms.  
Miles turned to stare at her with a look of surprise and confusion.

"Ah, sir?"

"Are you deaf? Out of my office, Major. You are dismissed. Back to work, and don't be this stupid again or I am putting you out to the bears." Her eyes never rose up.

"Sir, I cannot just leave without an answer. The kiss...?" he Ishvalan sounded concerned and he had right to be. Was he to continue without knowing if it was a spur of the moment tactic to escape his grip, or did she hold some kind of feeling for him?

"Happened. Grow up Miles." She glanced up with a faint smile on her full lips. "I didn't realize you would react this way, I thought you were a Briggs man and not a hormonal teenage girl."  
The berating tease made him bristle, and so he frowned, saluting stiffly.

"Aye sir, of course. Forgive me, and thank you," was all he said, before leaving the room faster than he entered it, relieved that she didn't skewer him as he had genuinely feared.  
Olivier on the other hand, rested her chin on her hand with a crafty smirk on her lips.

"This could be interesting..." She muttered to herself, before continuing with the forms laid out before her.


	3. Chapter 3

The two men circled each other warily. Both of their bare torsos were heaving with the effort and exertion, having been at this now for the better part of half an hour. Major Miles raised his right arm, wiping away beads of perspiration that clung to his forehead and threatened to blur his vision. His opponent, Buccaneer, gave an almost feral smirk. While he too was tired, he was nowhere near as exhausted as the Major and knew that he would probably come out the victor of this match as he usually did; not many people would be able to stand up to the auto mailed Bear of Briggs and last this long.

The Captain was done with this. It was time to end this battle. He suddenly lunged forward with his right arm outstretched; the dangerously sharp claws of his Bear automail set to claw across the Major's already torn chest. Miles however, surprised the mohawked man by nimbly darting under the outstretched claws to land a powerful blow unto the Captain's solar plexus, sending the air rushing form his lungs in a winding. Buccaneer grunted, but didn't slow. His left hand came up and caught Miles by the throat, squeezing enough to hold him. The Ishvalan Major scrabbled at the hand that held him, but the larger man wasn't letting up.

From all around them came the shouts of their fellows; some of them yelling that Buccaneer was cheating, not playing fair while others cheered the brute on.  
"Do... you yield?" Buccaneer panted with a lopsided grin. Miles grunted a confirmation. As soon as he did, Buccaneer released him with a laugh, clapping his foe on the back hard.

"A good fight Miles!" He announced suddenly, much to the dismay of some of the men. Money passed hands, some jubilant at their winnings, others rueing their choice. The battles within the Fort were one of the few times any of the men could gamble; though of course the stakes were playful. The higher officers made sure of that. To set the example, they only ever bet the other a few rounds of drinks in North City.

They were all stood in the Training Halls of Briggs, a large room within the fortress that was often so frequented by many of them. It was the same place that Miles had fought Olivier not many nights ago. Inside the Bear of Briggs' ring was only Miles and the Bear himself, but the men who had stood as spectators swarmed in to clap Miles on the shoulder and congratulate him for going so long against Buccaneer. He just barked a laugh, passed it off to experience and luck before announcing he wanted to shower. Striding to the side of the ring, he collected his clothes that sat beside Buccaneer's, before turning to the door.

As he walked form the halls, Miles let his tough exterior fade with a groan. He ached everywhere. Across his chest, back and arms were scores of cuts made by Buccaneer's claws, including a nasty gash that ran the full length of his torso. He smirked faintly. If Olivier were to see him, she'd probably hit him for being too slow.  
That was one thing that he always wondered about when it came to the fights between himself and Buccaneer, Olivier never showed approval or disapproval. They only did it under the pretence of training, and in effect that was all it ever was. Miles was one of the few soldiers that could go the distance with Buccaneer and relished the chance to have a good work out.

The Ishvalan carried on walking, carrying his uniform jacket and shirt under his arm. There was no point in bloodying his clothes when the walk, or usual jog, didn't take long. The few men he did pass merely queried the victor and left it at that. There was nothing odd at seeing someone walk topless through Briggs, though any that did were often thought a little mad. The frigid temperatures were enough to man your blood run cold, though the Major welcomed the chill. It was revitalising.

It didn't take him long to reach his quarters. Slipping the key in the lock he entered with a loud yawn, shutting the door and rubbing his stomach as he went. He was starving, as always. "Damn Bear, making me miss dinner..." He grumbled to himself though he was smiling as he said it; he was the one that agreed with his crazy idea.  
Miles flicked the lights on, and took the opportunity to scrutinise the cuts and chunks gone from his torso.  
"For Ishvala's sake... he couldn't have worn the bloody Crocodile could he?" The Major dropped into a chair, smearing the blood across his chest as it dripped from the various cuts. "I'm going to kill him." He grumbled, leaning a hand from himself to reach for the whiskey decanter on the table, along with the small glass beside it. Pouring himself a drink, he sipped from it with the look of someone who rarely indulged; whiskey was for special occasions

A loud knock came from his door, making the Ishvalan raise an eyebrow, but not rise. Whoever it was could come back later. He went to take another sip, but nearly choked on it.

"Miles! Open this door. Immediately!" There was no mistaking the irritable tones of Olivier Armstrong.  
The Major jerked upright in his chair, almost dropping his glass of whiskey in his haste to open the door. He was already saluting her before he realised he was still half naked and bleeding.

"Major General! Forgive me, I did not hear you." They both knew it was a lie, but neither was willing to point that out.  
Olivier on the other hand motioned for him to stand at ease before breezing into his room past him; leaving her sword in close reach by the door. He looked at her somewhat mortified, looking around for his shirt or jacket to preserve some dignity. Sadly, his jacket was draped on the chair Olivier had just commandeered for as her own, while sniffing his whiskey experimentally.

"You've been fighting." The woman didn't look up from the glass, instead sipping from it with a look of contemplation.  
"It was a spar with Bu-"  
"Don't tell me what it was." Her eyes narrowed, blue flicking up to meet red icily.

Miles just nodded his head dumbly.  
"You're a mess." She took another drink, motioning for him to pour himself another glass if he wanted. Miles did, taking more than a sip as he did.  
"Why did you agree to it?" The blonde inquired with a raised eyebrow, motioning again for him to sit.  
"Because I've sparred him before... I was just lax this time so it seems." The Major dropped into the opposite chair, hunching slightly as if he wished to hide the extent of his chest.

The woman made a small noise of disagreement, but said nothing. Taking another drink, she then stood and walked around to him. Miles stiffened slightly, uncertain of her intentions when she laid an almost gentle hand on his shoulder. His mind flashed briefly to the night she kissed him, his dark eyes flicking to the side worriedly. Olivier, missing the look, pushed hard on the shoulder to push him back in the chair. Miles complied, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to work out what she was doing. The blonde Amestrian let her hand slide from his shoulder down his chest, fingers gently tracing over his cuts with the odd tut.

"Why do you let yourself get cut up like this?"  
Miles frowned. It wasn't like her to be concerned, not like this. There was only tough love in Briggs. Kindness was unnatural.  
"He was wearing his claws." Was all he offered as an explanation.  
Olivier rolled her eyes at him, fingers resting under the worst of his cuts.

"You need to get cleaned up. You're a mess." She repeated with a faint smile. Miles chuckled at her remark.  
"I was going to get in the shower." He replied smoothly.  
The blonde snorted. "You were drinking."  
"I was getting in after my drink."  
"Liar." She smirked faintly. "You were going to keep drinking until you were drunk, fall asleep in this chair, and forget all about the shower." Miles made to interrupt, but she silenced him. "Then you would have a headache in the morning, be in foul temper when you actually left your quarters because you would rather sleep, and then your chest would ache because you never thought to take care of them the night before." She arched an eyebrow, laughing at his guilty expression.

"Maybe." Was all he said as a reply, watching her mutely as she stood up and slouched back in her chair.  
"Go get in the shower, Miles." She phrased it as an order.  
"Sir I can hardly just leave you in my qu-"  
"Your whiskey will keep me company. Now please, go clean up and put a shirt on. While I admire your physique, there is only so much I can take." Another small smile at his bemused expression, Olivier watched her Major stand and shuffle off to the attached bathroom. A few moments later came the hiss of water as the shower was turned on.

She took another drink, mulling over their situation. Should anybody find her in his rooms while he was showering, it could lead to a sense of awkwardness among the men. Although, there should hardly be any suspicion. Miles was her right hand, after all. It would be odd should he and her not meet in private to discuss various matters. Granted, he probably shouldn't be topless...  
The General snorted quietly and took another drink. She hadn't been lying about the admiration remark.

While the General drank and thought, Miles was busy in the shower removing the now dried blood and the feeling of grime and sweat. His chest stung a touch, but he'd had worse. Stepping out of the shower, he set to work on drying himself. When finished, the Ishvalan wrapped the towel around his midrift, cursing himself as he stood in the bathroom. There were no spare clothes. He'd left them in his room, as always. Olivier was in his room. He was in a towel.

He cursed softly under his breath, then strode from bathroom to living area with what he hoped was an air of indifference.  
General Armstrong barely seemed to have moved, though her glass had a generous dose of whiskey. He stalked across the room to the single wardrobe, opening it wide with only one hand; the other holding the towel in place.

Olivier noticed the gesture and chuckled at him.  
Miles paid no heed to her, instead taking out the clothes before turning to walk back to the bathroom to get changed. His plans were dashed when Olivier was stood not an arm's reach away from him. He jumped, surprised at how silently and quickly she moved.  
It must have shown in his face, and it made the woman smirk with an almost feral edge to it.

"Something the matter, Miles?" Her eyebrow quirked.  
"No, General. I'm just going to go get dressed..." He took a step to the side to walk around her, and found the movement mirrored by his superior.  
"We're talking. Don't be rude." While she was upright and coherent, he could smell the alcohol on her breath.  
The Major frowned faintly. "Of course sir. What would you like to talk about?" H

e was always very lenient when it came to Olivier, almost always letting her get her own way.  
"Why were you stupid enough to avoid me after I kissed you?" She asked calmly.  
"Because I was afraid that our relationship had overstepped the boundary of superior and subordinate. That would mean we would compromise our positions." He answered honestly.

That rewarded him with a frown.  
"Miles, I am praised highly for how well I run this fortress. A kiss would do nothing to disrupt that." She leant closer to him, a hand resting on the curve of jaw and neck, before she leant up to press her lips against his again to prove a point. Miles tried to step back, but found his wardrobe in the way. He turned his head to break the contact. Olivier scowled. She liked getting what she wanted, and he was denying her that.

"This is highly inappropriate." He murmured to her, turning his face back to her with almost sadness in his red eyes.  
Olivier's fists bunched, her nails digging into his skin slightly.  
She wasn't pleased.

**To be continued...**

**[[A.N.**

**Hi guys. I'm not dead, just busy elsewhere. I'll update as soon as possible for the final instalment! **

**As always, I love any feedback. ]]**


	4. The End

**AN:**

I don't think I can ever continue this story.

While I loved the pair, and I loved writing the whole thing, I just feel that I can't continue it any more.

My muse is gone, and so is my partner that used to inspire me to write. Most of these ideas came from roleplays, or the ideas became roleplays and I just, knew what else to write.

Now, we don't roleplay because of reasons, and I just don't feel any way inclined to finish this.

I'm sorry to everyone that has followed it, and for all the kind comments of people wanting to read the final chapter. Perhaps at a later date, I'll write it up. I doubt it highly, but I might.

Thank you, for everyone that followed and everything, but this story is at an end.

I will write more, but it's most likely to be for other fandoms. I've left FMA now, and I don't see myself returning any time soon.


End file.
